


The Day Off

by Dusty



Series: Conversations In The Car [17]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Dom!James, Hot Sex, Light Dom/sub, Pillow Talk, Spanking, sub!M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She decides to take him up on his offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She wasn’t tired exactly. Just in a rich state of relaxation. She knew it couldn’t last of course, but for now, floating without thoughts was exactly where she wanted it to be and she refused to question it. From next week, new responsibilities beckoned; chairwoman for SOCA. It was one of many non executive roles she’d been offered, and this one whet her appetite the most. So she jumped at it, in her own cool and calm manner of course. It would give her something to be superior about at the gardening club after all.

She felt like a little piece of her was returning again, but before it did, she intended to make the most of her hiatus. She knew James couldn’t stick around forever, or consistently, and as much as she intended to enjoy the drug while she had it, she was determined not to become addicted. She mused that having that concern probably meant she already was, but right now she was floating, and she refused to worry about it.

He was next to her, reading in bed. She smiled to herself as she considered she may have aged him. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have been bringing literature to bed. But now here he was: James Bond, sitting up in bed, reading his assignment brief like a good boy. He felt her eyes on him and he glanced at her.

“What?” he asked.

“Anything exciting?”

“You’re not allowed to ask me that,” he chided with a smug grin.

He went back to reading. She looked at her own nightstand. A paperback lay neglected next to her glass of water. It was a good story. She could live without it. Hell, she was bored. She rubbed her left leg with her right foot, warming up her cold toes.

James was frowning intently at the file now. It was the first time he’d essentially flaunted his work in front of her since she’d been fired. She used to be the one to give him those files – she knew everything. And now she lay beside him cluelessly like some bit of stuff. However, being in the dark didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it might. Somehow the weeks had gone by and she’d been letting go of every single string she’d ever pulled. Except for one.

Her eyes gleamed mischievously. And that was it. She snatched the file out of James’ hands, scanning the document quickly with her eyes.

It was in front of her for less than a second. He whipped it back and deftly flung it away from her onto the floor, then firmly pinned her down underneath him. He fumed at her.

“That was completely illegal, reprehensible and childish,” he scolded angrily. She quivered beneath him, breathing hard. She had never been on the receiving end of this side of James before. She could feel his strength and power as he gripped her wrists and glowered down at her. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” she said weakly. She gazed back up at him. She’d made him genuinely angry. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

He let go of her wrists but stayed in place above her. He huffed. “You’re testing me,” he said.

“No I’m not,” she said indignantly.

“Yes you are. And trying to get my attention.”

He smirked and she hated him for it.

“Do you want me?” he pressed. “Want my cock?”

She slapped his thigh hard and he pinned her wrist back down.

“Oi,” he warned. He lowered himself so they were face to face. His eyes softened and he kissed her tenderly, his free hand cupping her face. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed.

She tingled beneath him, wanting nothing more than to be as physically close as possible. She fought to keep her legs closed and her hips still, not wishing to get side tracked. Because she had something she very much wanted to request.

“I want to spend the day with you tomorrow,” she said. “Just one day. Tomorrow.”

He frowned but said nothing; listening to her intently.

She kissed him lightly and continued. “I want you to… look after me. Like you said you would. No matter what I do.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Are you planning something?” he asked, voice low.

She realised she was opening her legs. He shifted and sank down between them. Letting go of her wrist, he held himself up on his elbows, hardening against her hot flesh. They began to rock lazily against each other.

“I want a day where you’re in charge of me,” she said breathlessly. “Just one day. But I want to see if you can keep up. And I don’t mean to be good.”

She grinned wickedly. He winked at her, then fixed her with a stern look.

“No. You need that day to sort your shit out. You asked me to remind you.”

“Not tomorrow,” she almost whined.

“You also asked me to insist if you got stroppy. You're not to leave this house. Clear?”

She looked up at him coyly. “You can’t stop me,” she stated.

He scowled at her. "Do as you're told or I'll have you chipped," he growled under his breath.

She rolled her head back and held him to her. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, causing them both to groan, their bodies chasing friction. His cock rubbed mercilessly against her clit, leaking on her, and following a few hours of wishing he’d take her seven ways from Sunday she ground back as hard as she could. _He was going to control her._

She licked and kissed his neck, pulling him tight against her. “I’ll do anything you say,” she whispered in his ear. “Unless I don’t feel like it.”

He made a filthy noise and thrust harder. “I’d think twice about disobeying me, if I were you,” he panted in her ear. “I’ve learned from the very best disciplinarian.”

Her eyes glinted. He grabbed his cock and ran it firmly up and down her vulva, their fluids mingling. Then once in the right place, he pushed and entered her firmly.

She gave a raw cry and he paused a moment for her to adjust. She clenched around him and he wriggled. They panted at each other.

“What if I don’t do as I’m told?” she asked, idly tracing a pattern on his chest with her fingers. She glanced at him coquettishly.

His eyes were warm. He flexed his hips very gently. “I’ll punish you.”

Heat spread through her, and she knew he could see the fire igniting in her eyes. They tried not to giggle at each other.

“How?” she asked.

He leaned in and whispered the answer in her ear, garnering a response of panting and moaning, her hips rocking as she lifted her legs around him and clamped him against her. He sank further into her, withdrew, then slammed back in hard.

The noise she made nearly tore his orgasm from him. He repeated the action, more gently this time, then again and again, faster and faster.

“Oh Commander Bond,” she drawled. “What have I got myself into?”

Her hand slinked between them. She stared him out, daring him as she massaged her clit.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered, staring back at her. They started to laugh at each other.

“All right then,” she said. “So you’ll punish me if I’m disobedient. But what if I’m good and do exactly as you say?”

He gave an impish leer. “You’ll get a reward,’ he said, with a sharp thrust.

“What will it be?” she gasped between moans.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’d like?” he rasped.

She ran one hand around the back of his neck and brought him in so she could whisper in his ear.

Her words made him grunt while his eyes filled with lust. “You’ll have to be very good to earn that,” he said.

“Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” she said. They kissed thoroughly and deeply, communicating every promise and trust they could while their bodies writhed passionately. He pulled back, then fixed her with a smouldering gaze and fucked her into the mattress. It was quick and dirty, and they came together, shuddering and sighing in each other’s arms.

“Much more relaxing than bedtime reading,” mumbled James as he reached for the lamp and switched out the light. “Bourbon,” he suddenly said. “In case you have a change of heart.” He was snoring softly before long.

She chuckled and found his hand, giving it a squeeze. He’d remembered her safe word. That was good to know. She shifted out of the wet spot with a huff, and went to sleep pondering her choices.


	2. Chapter 2

She was already gone when he woke up, and he knew it wasn’t going to be too much of a stretch for him to play the stern Dom.

He’d heard the front door close and padded into the kitchen to find a note. ‘Just popped to Waitrose’ it said. He made himself a coffee, his mind in a fog. She had to choose _today,_ didn’t she. His last proper day of rest for the foreseeable future, though she hadn’t known that of course. And she clearly planned to give him the run around. Well, he’d warned her not to, so the situation was straight forward.

A good strong coffee later, he was ready to deal with her. He had a quick shower, dressed in one of his more power-exuding suits, and set out after her, his blue eyes glinting.

She was taking her sweet time, having a good look through every newspaper and trying to read between the lines. She had already been glared at by the bitchy tobacconist twice and thought fit to move on. She went straight to the alcohol aisle and selected a favourite bourbon, then for fear of looking like an alcoholic at 9.30am on a Friday, she returned to the fresh produce section.

She was almost swaggering as she pondered how long it would take him to find her. And then what he would do to her. She felt uncomfortably warm and stopped by some salad for a moment, the fridges helping to cool her down. Her pussy pulsed as she remembered their conversation last night. Christ, what was he doing to her? She had three days to regain control. _But not today_ , she thought deliciously.

She was examining a cauliflower when she felt someone behind her. She tensed. She could almost feel his heat.

“Put that cauliflower down and come with me,” he growled in her ear.

“I need it. It’s for dinner,” she explained casually.

He stepped in closer and pinched her arm, speaking evenly. “Put it down now or I’ll evacuate not just Waitrose, but the entire borough, and blame you.”

She turned to look at him. His face was thunderous.

“You think I won’t?” he dared her. “Try explaining that to Mallory.”

She discarded the cauliflower with a sigh of resignation. “Very well, let me just get this…”

“No,” he said, removing the bourbon from her basket and leaving it nestled in the cabbages. “This is a banned substance for the next seven days. We’re leaving this here, and you are coming to the car with me.”

She shivered, feeling hot all over. His hand still pinched her arm as he frogmarched her towards the exit.

“Come on, mum,” he said cheerfully and loudly. “I told you I already ordered online.” He winked at the sullen tobacconist who sneered in reply. Olivia glared daggers at her before being whisked out to the car park.

“Get in,” he said sternly, propelling her towards the passenger seat side. “I told your driver to get going and that I would be your escort for today.”

She huffed, but did as she was told.

“I actually did need that cauliflower,” she said stubbornly.

“When I get you home, we’re going to have a nice little chat about what you need,” he said, his voice thick with warning.

He drove in silence and she found herself squirming in the seat. She glanced at him. He looked truly cross.

“You can say it, too,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Bourbon. The word. If you need to.”

He looked over at her. With a kind smile he placed one warm hand over hers. “I know,” he said simply. “You just sit tight.”

She exhaled with relief. He was awfully good at this game. A little too good. She squirmed all the way home.

He all but pushed her through the front door and slammed it behind them. She scuttled away into the living room but he was too quick. He caught her in his arms, sat on the arm of the sofa and pulled her over his knee.

“Oh!” she cried out as she flopped forward. He brought his hand down on her clothed bottom, a pleasing thwack echoing around the room. She writhed and gasped, her world turned upside down, all the blood rushing to her head as his hand repeatedly came down on her rear. It was rough and sudden, administered like an angry parent, but his other hand held her carefully. It had been years since she’d been treated like this. A rush of ecstasy coursed through her as she let him handle her. It was worth the throbbing in her backside.

One last smack and she cried out again. He stood her up and pointed a finger in her face.

“Don’t you dare defy me like that. I told you not to leave the house without my permission. Next time, I’ll smack your bare bottom,” he threatened, his mouth quirking in a slight smile.

“There won’t be a next time!” she fumed, rubbing her buttocks. She could feel the heat through her skirt.

“Glad to hear it,” he said pleasantly. “You really are old enough to know better.”

She pouted at him, eyes gleaming.

“Sit down,” he ordered. She did so gingerly, perching on the sofa. He smirked at her. “Have you eaten any breakfast?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen.

“No,” she grumbled. “I was going to buy something from Waitrose but then I was kidnapped.”

He walked slowly back towards her with a threatening glare. She bit her lip and stared at the floor.

“You really need to watch your tone,” he warned. “I’ll make us something, shall I?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said haughtily. Her eyes darted to the clock on the mantelpiece. He noticed. _What’s she scheming now_ , he wondered. She saw him studying her and tried to look innocent.

He raised an eyebrow, calculating various forms of punishment in his mind, and went into the kitchen.

He returned with coffee and an uninspiring apple on a plate, then sat back down on the arm of the sofa eating a banana.

“Hardly a feast, is it?” she sneered.

“Two weeks,” he announced.

“Two weeks what?”

“No bourbon.”

She shot daggers at him and he snickered at her. “You’d better watch your lip,” he said calmly. “Acting out, being cheeky, tut tut tut.” He shook his head. “You know what I’ll do.”

She flushed. She knew exactly what he would do. She shifted in her seat, the sting of the spanking still radiating.

“I want you to be good for a little while because I have something I need to work on,” he said. “Eat your apple, drink your coffee, and stay put.”

He disappeared for a moment, giving her the chance to contemplate the apple, then reappeared with his assignment brief from last night. She felt a stab of guilt. He probably had more serious things on his mind then managing a brat. She scooped up the apple and sat back on the sofa, biting into the fruit. He was flicking through the file, ocassionally glancing at her. She found herself enjoying his presence in the room as her mind filled up with peace.

A good hour or so later he was absorbed in studying some photographs in the file when she stood up. “Bathroom?” she asked. James rolled his eyes. “Get on with it,” he answered with a nod. She grinned slyly and he heard her go upstairs. He glanced at the clock himself. It was noon. He closed the file and stood, ears pricked to make sure she wasn’t climbing out of a window or making a nail bomb. But she came back downstairs, now wearing a different top. It housed her cleavage perfectly.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

“It’s my afternoon outfit,” she explained. “I didn’t intend to be dressed for Waitrose all day.”

She crossed the room and sat back down on the sofa, but fidgeted restlessly.

“OK,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she replied. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Whatever it is,” he said dangerously. “Think very carefully. You’ve already got yourself into trouble. You don’t want to make it worse for yourself.”

“Of course not,” she said coquettishly, her pulse pounding. She peered across the room and out of the window.

He scowled following her gaze. “You don’t leave this house without my permission. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The doorbell rang.

“Ah!” she cried. “My lunch date’s here.” She snatched her purse and dashed to the front door.

“What?” bellowed James.

“Shhh,” she replied. “It won’t do for him to hear you, OO7.” She smirked, eyes dancing, and opened the door. “Lord Ranford!” she said warmly.

“Dame Olivia,” said a smiling old man with a courteous nod. “Are you ready?”

“Yes of course. Lead the way, Charlie.”

She disappeared from view as the door slammed shut, leaving James standing like a lemon in her front room.


	3. Chapter 3

The waitress led him to his seat; a table for one near the back. He’d clocked them immediately and was now in a position to watch them with the discretion one expected from an MI6 agent. He glared at them from behind a menu.

She was flirting violently, tits forward, foot roaming under the table. Lord Ranford looked positively flushed. James ground his teeth as he scrutinized Olivia’s dinner date. Lord Charles Ranford, to the manor born, billionaire, anthropologist, opera lover. She’d spoken about him before. He was a good 10 years younger than her, his skinny face glowing as Olivia’s bosom heaved happily in front of him.

James ordered the soup and found himself wondering if he ought to have done some proper reading on discipline. She was really asking for it. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to administer a real spanking. This was his ex boss, now his lover, and she’d all but begged him to dominate her, if only for a day. But now she was making it easier for him. The wicked little minx. He smirked.

Lord Ranford was talking to the waiter now. She shot glance of pure evil right at James, but was met with a far deadlier response. If looks could kill. She swallowed.

“All right, my dear?” asked Lord Ranford.

“Yes, of course, Charlie,” she smiled sweetly.

James tried not to spill his soup as he watched them. Lord Ranford was rather charming company, as it transpired, and Olivia found herself effortlessly engaged in conversation, her foot still straying onto his now and again, though the old man appeared to be oblivious.

After their main course, she peered over at James and realised with a start that he’d left. Her heart began to race. She’d done it now. He’d be waiting for her when she got back. She felt her face redden.

“Olivia, darling, are you unwell?” asked Lord Ranford kindly.

She gave a weak smile. “A little too much wine, perhaps,” she said.

He huffed, eyes shining. “I always heard you could take your drink like a trooper.”

Her lips thinned. “Yes, well. This trooper had better be getting home.”

He stood, ever the gentleman. “Of course.”

James was comfortably lounging on the sofa when he heard the car arrive. He’d been playing out scenarios in his mind. He listened to the pleasantries exchanged and the car doors open and close. Then the front door. Then she walked slowly in, stopping in the doorway. She gazed at him.

He glared moodily. “Go upstairs,” he said.

“I’m in terrible trouble, aren’t I?” she asked.

“Go upstairs,” he repeated severely. She felt flames raging inside her. Her lips felt dry. How could this man who had once been her boyish operative suddenly be so commanding, so assuring. She had always trusted him, but this was something else.

She hadn’t moved. She couldn’t. She wanted to dissolve into him. She couldn’t see how she could possibly move away from him at this moment. She was on fire.

He stood abruptly. She dropped her purse on the floor. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t doing it on purpose, she didn’t want to upset him, but god she needed him. She needed him to…

“I said go upstairs.” His voice was raised.

She stepped further into the room, almost in a fever now. “No,” she breathed.

He glowered at her. “You do realise that if you continue with this behaviour I will give you a hiding. I’m not talking about slap and tickle, I’m talking about punishing you properly.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You won’t. You’re too coward to do such a thing.” She moved towards him, breathing hard.

“I promised you I would take care of you, no matter what. We agreed. You’re the one forcing my hand.”

“What are you going to do? Stop my pocket money?”

He grabbed her by the arms. “There are many things I’m going to do to you, but first I want you to tell me why you’re behaving so badly. Why today? What’s this about? Acting like a brat and trying to make me jealous with some old codger.”

She scowled at him then turned her head away.

He shook her gently. “I think you’re doing this because you want to make sure I can handle you. Your new job is starting and you don’t know what that’s going to mean. You’re trying to see if I’ll give up on you or not when you start being a bitch.”

She wriggled free. “Don’t over analyse it,” she sniped. “I just wanted some fun for a day.”

“And I promised to take care of you, which includes getting to the bottom of your behaviour as well as punishing it. Like I said, you’re testing me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” she spat, turning around to the bourbon for support. She reached for the bottle, but he’d already hidden it.

He caught her hand, then her arm, and forced her to look at him. “Go upstairs and wait for me in the bedroom. Now.”

She gave him a piercing glare of defiance. “No.”

“Right,” he said. He began to pull her bodily to the staircase, holding her arm in a vice like grip.

She tried to wriggle free again but couldn’t. “Let go of me!”

“You just say the word and I will.”

How was he so strong? He had her up the stairs and in the bedroom in no time, with her feet hardly touching the ground. He practically threw her in the room.

“You can’t pull me around, treating me like a naughty child!” she cried.

“Oh no?” he asked, rounding on her. “You’re behaving like one so I’ll treat you like one. If there’s something you want to say to me – a particular word, for example, say it now.”

She resolutely and silently stared him out.

“Fine,” he said. He sat down on the bed, pulling her in and clamping her between his knees as he began to tug off her clothing. She wriggled but made no real attempt to get away, almost leaning into his ministrations. His jaw was constantly clenching and his nostrils flaring. She trembled.

“I’m sorry,” she said, when he got her down to her cream, lacy underwear.

He fixed her with his icy blue eyes. “Bit late for that now,” he scolded. “Your behaviour today has been appalling. And it’s only 3 o’fucking clock.”

She stifled a giggle, looking at him sheepishly. But something caught his attention. He was looking at her crotch, staring at her knickers. He ran a curious finger between her legs and felt a damp spot in the material.

“You’re wet,” he said sternly.

She squirmed but said nothing. She trembled again.

He scowled. “Is this because of him or me?”

Her mouth fell open. _Oh god. He didn’t really think for a moment…_

“James,” she breathed, horrified.

Just then, he gave her a devilish wink. The bastard was still acting. She smacked him on the arm, but immediately felt herself turned upside down. She was over his knee for a second time that day.

He did nothing at first. His hand was shaking slightly. Here she was in his lap, this bloody woman who had for years held him in the palm of her hand, and now she was his to command and discipline. He hadn’t quite expected her to go to the lengths she had, but had to give her marks for ingenuity. Using a Lord of the Realm to make him jealous? She certainly was a woman after his own heart.

His cock had been twitching all day, with every defiant word and move she’d made. She was genuinely frustrating, but sexy nonetheless. The difficulty was, he didn’t want to hurt her. And yet she was forcing him to. Did she know how brutal he could be? She was lying across his thighs, quivering in her underwear, vulnerable as hell. She trusted him, and he had to trust her. He hardened as he gave himself permission.

“I did warn you,” he said gruffly. He held her securely.

The first slap landed and she bucked. It definitely wasn’t slap and tickle anymore. Her flesh reddened underneath her knickers. A second fell. She gasped. He was right. This wasn’t going to be anything other than punishment. She hated it – the pain did nothing for her. But to know she was safe… She held on tight and let him beat her backside with his open palm.

She panted into the bedclothes, her face red and screwed up. The smacks came firmly and rhythmically, the pain fading into a dull ache. Just when she thought she may have got away with a bearable punishment, she felt him peel her knickers down. She swore under her breath.

“I heard that,” he chided, delivering a stinging swat to her bare bottom. She cried out and he held her close. “Now that I’ve warmed you up,” he began, smirking at her crestfallen groan, “it’s time you learned your lesson.”

He was merciless. She wasn’t sure when she started to cry, but she did remember thinking he must have closed all the windows or the police would probably be there by now. She felt herself dissolving, the sting taking her breath away, yet still the word that could stop it all was nowhere near her lips. She felt her rear burning red as she fought to stay in place. He was giving her exactly what she needed.

“I don’t ever want to have this behaviour from you again,” he scolded, smacking her on every other word. “Disobedient wretch. Devious bitch. Not on my watch.”

He covered her buttocks and thighs in relentless swats. She wriggled in his lap and he sensed she couldn’t take much more. With all his strength, he gave her three very hard and sharp slaps across her bottom as a finale.

She made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a scream and sobbed into the duvet. Enough was enough, though he couldn’t help but tease. “And now the second part of your spanking,” he drawled. “Your hairbrush should work nicely.”

“No! James,” she mumbled into the covers, twisting hopelessly in his lap. He noticed she didn’t use the safe word, however. He rubbed her back and regarded her cautiously.

“That’s enough, Olivia,” he stated, as formally as a headmaster. “I’ve decided that’s enough now.”

He felt her body relax. She buried her face in the duvet. He unfastened her bra, then pulled off her knickers. Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up until she was sitting on his knee. She still couldn’t look at him, but rested her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, then stood them both up while he tugged back the covers, ushering her under the bedclothes. She never was too comfortable naked, but especially now she’d been so powerfully shamed.

He knew he ought to leave her there. He should go downstairs and write a list of the various other punishments she'd earned and would be carrying out in the coming days. But that wasn't what she needed.

He undressed quickly, then joined her in the bed. Her body instantly welcomed him in an embrace. He kissed her hard, then fixed her with his ‘commander’ look. “Are you going to behave now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I promise.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thought so.”

Her body was delightfully warm and soft, somehow more pliant than ever before. He kissed her all over; her face, her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Then he nipped down to her wet heat and lapped at her gently. She was incredibly sensitive, and he was incredibly hard. He came back up to face her.

She was looking at him so adoringly. It was all the confirmation he needed. He shifted, lifting her leg slightly, and then he was inside her. He moved delicately, determined to be gentle following the harsh reprimand. She was a bundle of orgasmic nerves; his every movement elicited an ecstatic moan, the day’s fun and his attentive firm hand providing her with all the foreplay she could ever need.

He moved slowly, tenderly, for what felt like an age, feeling she could tip at any moment. “Good girl,” he murmured softly. “That’s better.” He continued steadily, feeling his own pleasure build. Eventually, her hands clutched at him. He rolled his hips slowly as she started to shudder, and he brought her to a deep orgasm that rippled through her again and again.

He kissed her forehead as she lay panting, then pulled himself out. Resting on his side, he began to work his cock energetically, pointing it threateningly at her breasts. Her eyes widened as she realised what he was going to do. She was getting her reward.

He looked deep into her eyes. She watched him, fascinated, deliberately opening her mouth wider than entirely necessary to catch her breath. His own breath came in fits and starts at the sight of her inviting him. His movements quickened, his hand a blur as he panted furiously.

He came with a base grunt, spurting over her breasts and neck in creamy laces and hot splashes. He flicked gently, a spot or two of ejaculate reaching her chin, and deliciously, a little on her lower lip. She licked it away slowly for his benefit, as he milked himself dry all over her.

She looked down at herself in wonder, groaning at the sight of herself.

He collapsed onto his side, then his back and pulled her into him, feeling the stickiness between them.

“Let’s stick together,” he quipped, catching his breath.

“You’re disgusting,” she murmured sweetly, smiling into him.

He swatted her behind, inducing a squeak. “You make me disgusting,” he replied. “Now go to sleep. It’s time for your nap.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun, but also some soul searching and angst... just to warn you. Oh, and boobs are featured.

It was dusk when they woke up, quite literally stuck together. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her. He grinned.

She smiled serenely, wriggling against him. “Was it too much?”

“No,” he answered. “But don’t make a habit of it or I really will spank you with your hairbrush. Game or no.”

She laughed. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

“I’m impressed you let me.”

“I wasn’t letting you,” she murmured against his chest. I was pushing you so you wouldn’t give me a choice. I would never ‘let’ you.”

“Ah. No responsibility. No guilt. Is this a rape fantasy thing?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s come back to that another time,” she said, scowling at him. _Why did he have to be so fucking insightful._

He rubbed her back, deep in thought. “I can do that,” he said proudly.

“James, don’t make me safeword you,” she threatened.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Day’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “We have the whole evening. Perhaps you’d like to tie my laces together or put salt in my coffee.”

She gave him an impish grin and cuddled up. “Perhaps.”

He brushed the hair off her face then held her close. He listened to her breathing, feeling the warmth of her against him. “You trust me not to hurt you,” he murmured.

“Yes,” she breathed into his neck. He fell silent and she moved her head back to study him. He was frowning.

“And if we weren’t playing? Would you still trust me not to hurt you?”

“No,” she said. “Not if I really wound you up.”

“Good. That’s probably wise.”

“Well, I have raised you as a weapon, OO7. I’d be stupid to forget that.”

“Yes you would.” His eyes flashed at her dangerously.

“I’m hardly in a position to forget. I’m lying here with a bruised posterior, coated in your semen. Imagine if I died and this is how they found me. Delicious.”

He abruptly rolled them over so he was on top of her and raised his hand as if to strike her. She gasped, but he kept his hand rigid in the air. “Don’t ever ask me to imagine ‘ _if you died_ ’ again. Or I promise you I _will_ hurt you.”

His eyes burned like icy blue fire. Beneath him, her heart pounded in her ears as she kept completely still. _Christ_ , she thought. _He’s in love_. “Go on, then,” she said brazenly. “Do it.”

His body jerked minutely and she winced. But nothing happened. Instead he huffed in frustration and lowered his hand, climbing off her and out of the bed. He stood naked, hands on his hips. “If you die,” he said angrily, “it will be because I kill you. Hard. And painfully.”

She bit her lip and tried not to laugh at him.

He glared at her. “And there’s no way your fucking posterior has bruises. Not this time, anyway.”

She opened her mouth to argue and he shouted over her. “Shower. Now.” He pointed to the bathroom, as if she didn’t know where it was. She fixed him with a steely glare and slowly obeyed him, pulling back the covers and shuffling towards the bathroom. He slapped her on the behind to make her move faster, and she did so with a yelp.

\---

He sat on the bed with his head in hands as he heard the shower run. Hell, she was a challenge. She knew she was driving him crazy. And she’d given him permission to beat her. _Really should take advantage of that,_ he mused. But it didn’t sit right with him. Something told him she would let him beat her black and blue. There was no hint of the safeword, even when he’d threatened her properly. He shuddered, feeling like a baited dog.

She came out of the bathroom in a towelling robe with her hair sticking up, looking like an angry wet cat, and he forgot the weight on his shoulders for a moment. “That’s a good look,” he teased.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, sitting on the edge on the bed petulantly.

“Mind your manners,” he chided. “Put something comfy on and wait for me downstairs.”

She gazed up at him and he waited for her to acknowledge his instruction. He raised his eyebrows as a prompt.

“OK,” she said softly, finally compliant.

He sighed and walked into the bathroom.

\---

He padded downstairs in jeans and a tee-shirt to find her sitting comfortably on the sofa, absorbed in the tacky paperback. She’d tended to her hair, which was a styled mess, and sat with one foot underneath her. She wore lose black trousers with a blue corset. _Was that comfortable_ , he wondered. A satin dressing gown fell off her shoulders slightly.

He sat down in what she’d termed ‘the challenge chair’, the one he liked to sit in when he wasn’t prepared to put up with her shit. She didn’t seem completely surprised when he plonked himself down; she simply put the book to one side and waited.

He sat forward in the chair, forcing eye contact. “Right,” he said. “So now I’m going to tie you up and flog you all over with a belt, before slapping you about the face five or six times. Then I’m going to rape you on the fucking floor. Then I’ll crown the whole experience with a punch in the face. Will that relax you?”

She pursed her lips. “Don’t mock me,” she hissed.

“I’m not. I think you want to see how far I’ll go.”

“And?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “It stops here. You’re wrong. I can’t hurt you. Even if you want me to. The end.”

She stared at him, eyes shining, mouth open slightly.

“Disappointed?” he asked with a sneer.

Her breath hitched. “No,” she said sincerely. “Far from it, James.”

“Satisfied, then?”

She shook her head in disbelief, then looked down at her hands and started picking at her nails. “I would have stopped you,” she said, her voice low.

He shifted forward in his seat and stilled her hand with his own. He looked at her searchingly. “Promise?” he said.

She gave a warm sigh, taking pity on him. She cupped his face. “Promise. I want you to control the situation, not flagellate me.”

He studied the carpet for a few moments before looking back up at her. “You feel out of control, don’t you? So you either take full control or relinquish it completely.”

She sighed and sat back in the sofa. “I don’t wish to be analysed, James,” she said sharply. He gave her a wounded look, then dropped his eye line. She took a deep breath. “But yes. That’s it exactly.”

He smiled coldly at her. “Even when you’re supposed to be out of control, you’re in control. Running around, getting me to chase you, pulling my strings, all designed to see if I’m strong enough to stop you.”

There was a strained silence as his words hit home.

“I suppose I’ve been caught out,” she said with a sheepish glance. “I didn’t realise I was doing it.”

“I know,” he said softly, leaning forward and kissing her on the head. “Though I did tell you last night you were testing me, and you shrugged it off.”

She bit her lip. “Yes I did, didn’t I? I didn’t see it for what it was.”

“Well the first step is admitting you have a problem,” he said with a wolfish grin. She scowled.

“Don’t try to cure me, James,” she said harshly. “It’s a little late for that. All you can do now is treat the symptoms.”

He stood. “It’s never too late,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t be so romantic. You need to keep a clear head.” She glowered at him. “Besides, you can talk. Don’t tell me you weren’t testing me when you raised your hand. As if you’d dare to slap me.”

He shot her a sassy look. “I know when I’m testing someone, that’s the difference. I told you I’d get to the bottom of your behaviour as well as punishing it.”

He pulled her up to standing by the arm and led her to the oak dining room table. He sat her down firmly in a hard backed chair.

“What are you playing at?” she asked.

He took her wrist and kissed the back of her hand. “Turning the tables,” he said pleasantly, then whipped out a pair of handcuffs from the back of his jeans and snapped them around her wrist, clipping the other around the table leg.

“James Bond!” she shouted, yanking at her restraints.

He swaggered, hands in his pockets, looking at her furious face. “Say the word, and I’ll let you go.”

She glared hot death at him, but said nothing. He’d as good as spelt out he was still taking care of her, and she felt instantly soothed. She slumped in the chair with a pout, eyes still shooting daggers at him.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” he said evenly. “Now once and for all, I am in charge. You are going to sit there like a good girl, and do as you’re told. And we’re going to have a perfectly marvellous evening. If you’re good, I’ll release you before too long, but any lip, and you’ll be there all night. Think I’m joking?”

She sulked miserably at him. She wouldn’t put it past him.

“And another thing,” he said, approaching her dangerously. “How can you be so sure that I was testing you earlier? Do you really think I’m beyond slapping your face?”

He graced her chin with a feather light touch, bending down so they were face to face. “You’ve slapped me enough times. And we both know you can take it. So don’t be so fucking cocky.”

He was terrifying, and she believed every word. Of course he’d never harm her. But as he’d pointed out, a slapped face wasn’t altogether harmful, provided you missed the ear. _Bastard_ she thought. _Sexy fucking bastard._ She flexed her wrist in the cuff, hardly the first time she’d had one of those snapped on her, though in truth it had usually been for professional reasons back in the day.

“We couldn’t have just rented a movie?” she asked him sardonically.

“It’s your day off, you little bitch,” he said, sauntering to the fridge. “You rented a Dom.” He opened the fridge.

“There’s nothing in there,” she sneered. “You sabotaged the grocery shopping. Remember?”

“Remember what I said about being lippy,” he called out from behind the fridge door. “I doubt you want to still be sitting there at 5am tomorrow morning in a puddle of your own piss.”

She muttered under her breath.

“Ah!” he exclaimed happily, withdrawing something from the top shelf of the fridge. It was a large white china plate, covered in food wrap, preserving the only fresh thing in stock. “Profiteroles. Oh, and cream.”

He closed the fridge door with his foot and brought the dish, plus the pot of cream, to the table. He set them down then fetched some cutlery. He took a seat next to her at the table, turning around so he was facing her.

She fumed at him, her bosom heaving sullenly. He regarded the shape of her sculpted breasts, pushed up as they were by her corset to an almost level surface. He could eat his dinner off them, he thought. He grinned wickedly.

She could see it in his eyes. “Think very carefully about the long term ramifications of what you’re planning to do,” she said, an edge in her voice.

He leaned in, his face up close once more. “Oh I am,” he spoke seductively. “And after tonight, I am gonna get hard as a rock every time I see the merest glimpse of these magnificent tits.”

Her free hand clenched in her lap.

“No,” he warned, as if to a child. He patted the clenched hand. “Be good,” he whispered. He snaked his fingers around her neck and pulled her into a kiss, his tongue swirling in her mouth passionately. Then he broke it off.

“Mmm,” he said. “Perfect starter.”

She sat silent and breathless, watching him intently. His finger tips gently pulled at the front of her corset, and he began to kiss her breasts, licking and nuzzling her cleavage. Her free hand curled in her lap again, as she determined not to touch him. She wanted to obey him.

He sat up again. “Delicious main course,” he said. He started to unwrap the profiteroles. “And now dessert.”

She braced herself, torn between kicking him and begging him to fuck her. She wiggled her toes instead and scowled at him.

“Now, now,” he said. “Be nice. And I warn you. This might be a little bit cold.”

He spooned up some of the profiteroles and deposited them on top of her breasts. She hissed and gasped, but bit her lip and looked at him with deep contrition.

“Good girl,” he said. “For a moment I thought you were going to say a bad word. And we both know you mustn’t do that.” She rolled her eyes, but he let it go with a chuckle.

Then he spooned another helping of profiteroles onto her bosom. She grimaced this time, watching him reach for the cream.

“And then a little touch of magic,” he said, dipping a teaspoon into the pot. Then he paused. “Hey, doesn’t this remind you of something?”

She looked at him questioningly, but then he flicked the creamy teaspoon at her. It spattered over her breasts and the dessert they were housing.

“Very clever,” she said with a huff. Then she had to laugh. He was red in the face, giggling silently like a cheeky schoolboy and totally breaking the spell.

As she laughed, the profiteroles threatened to slop off her chest, and James had to rush in to catch them. She regained control of herself and her chest became motionless. He started with a spoon, making a complete song and dance of eating his pudding off her tits as if he was eating soup in a fine restaurant. But the more he ate, the more breast was revealed. He put down the spoon having gobbled up the creamy chocolate puffs, and moved off the chair, kneeling up between her legs. His eyes flashed wantonly, and he set about licking her clean.

She tried to stay still in her seat but his hair tickled her, and she slowly sneaked her hand into his sandy locks, urging him to suck harder. She gasped as he pulled her basque open and her boobs spilled out, his hot mouth attacking a nipple. She reclined in the chair, pleasantly aroused by his attentions, holding him close to her breast.

He worked diligently and symmetrically until the sticky dessert had disappeared and her nipples were red and hard. Her skin was pink and tender where his stubble had rubbed against her.

Her eyes had drifted closed. She became aware that he’d stopped. She looked down at him. Her chest was covered in a sheen of saliva, and one side of his face was pressed against it. She sighed. _Silly boy_ , she thought. He looked up at her, as if reading her thoughts, and stood, towering over her again. He reached over to the plate for a profiterole and popped it in her mouth, and she ate it promptly.

“Good girl,” he said lasciviously. Then he set about restoring her corset, getting it wrong, and leaving her half dressed and lopsided. He sat back down and leered at her. She was a hot mess.

“What a wonderful meal,” he said, eyes twinkling. “You behaved very well.”

She felt a burst of pride swiftly followed by feeling completely ridiculous. He saw her thought process and laughed openly, placing one warm hand on her knee.

“Oh very well,” he said. He pulled a key from his jeans pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. She immediately rubbed her wrist, but he took it in his hands and examined it. “No signs of torture,” he said. “No harm done.”

She smiled warmly at that. She’d been entirely at his mercy, and all he’d done is eat a chocolate pudding off her. He kissed her tenderly.

They gazed at each other for a long moment, their smiles turning into sadness. Her eyes fell on his discarded case file on the coffee table.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” she said.

“You know I am,” he chided. “Come on, Olli. You knew this was coming. That’s what started all of this, isn’t it.”

She blinked, feeling her eyes prick with tears. “I knew as soon as you came back the other day. You were different. Like you were getting ready. And then I saw the file. Of course I knew.” She stared at him, eyes cold. “And it’s not home soil, either, is it?”

“I won’t ask how you knew that,” he said with an eye roll.

“Call it feminine intuition. You were being shifty. Also, I used to be a fucking spy, you arrogant shit.”

He held the key to the handcuffs up in front of her face. “It’s not over yet,” he scolded.

Her bottom lip trembled to her dismay. But she was done hiding. “Promise?” she asked directly, knowing he could see the tears in her eyes now.

“I promise,” he said.

She sniffed. “When?”

“Tomorrow morning.” He hung his head as if he’d just confessed.

She gulped. “So that’s what you meant about 5am tomorrow morning,” she said. “Because that’s when you would have had to let me go.”

He frowned. That was a bad slip.

“Bad form, OO7,” she admonished. “Never reveal too much to the enemy…”

“You’re not the enemy,” he said severely. He leaned in and kissed her hard, leaving her breathless. “And as I told you, it’s not over yet.”

He glanced at the clock. It was 9pm. “It’s still your day off,” he said softly. “But no more mischief, from either of us. Just come to bed with me. Please.”

She gazed at him fondly. Her harmless murderer.

“Yes, James,” she breathed.

 

 


End file.
